Privileged & Wonderful
by goosequill
Summary: Claquesous and Montparnasse share a pure, untarnsihed relationship. Slash Warning. Please Read and Review


Disclaimer: Claquesous, Montparnasse, Patron-Minette, and all other Les Miserables characters and concepts belong to Victor Hugo, one of the greatest writers in history. I, sad to say, own nothing.

Author's note: Please Read and Review. I'm also looking for challenges. Thanks!

_I am… privileged. That is the word. I alone, of all humanity, have seen the face of night, the visage that Paris trembles to look upon, the face of Claquesous. My beloved one. It for me, and no other that he removes his cloak, that he takes off his mask, that he speaks as he was born to. For me he drops the accents and voices. For me._

_To the rest of the world, he is a shadow, a miasma, akin to rats and fog, removed many times from humanity's limits. To me, he is my angel, my protector, my best beloved. He is truth._

_For any other soul, the word "Claquesous", is a death-knell, a sound to strike terror into the heart. For me, this word, like the strum of exotic instruments, is a heavenly note. He is my love._

_And to behold that face. Such a face, and to have it all my own, mine only. To not have to share such beauty with any…. Such is heaven. For he is beautiful, my love is. He is fair, despite his black mystique. His hair is uncombed, uncultured, he is clean-shaven. I should place him at about 25 years of age. His voice, his _true_ voice, is melancholy and sweet, like the sound of a violin. This Stradivarius plays only for me._

_What a thing it is, to have him all to myself. None other has shared it. He is selfish with himself. Any who might have seen him, his family, any who know what lies beneath the swirling black cloak and pointed mask, are dead. His long stiletto blade, in and out, and done. His secret is safe, he protects it. Except from me. I am privileged to share in it, to revel in it. I am the only one on earth who knows his real name, what he wad called before he took the moniker of Claquesous._

_I stay in my habitual lodging, a small, cheap set of rooms on the Rue des Italiens, a small, nearly abandoned street in the Montparnasse district. That was Claquesous' idea of a joke when I first moved there. Some nights he stays there with me. Others he stays at one of his numberless hideouts and safe houses, never for more than two nights in a row. Sometimes I go with him. Mostly, he prefers to be alone, though. I don't mind. It's enough to have him when I do._

_And when I do, ah, such bliss. I shall be lying on my bed, or reading the newspaper, and all of a sudden, there he is. I don't see him come in, he is just there. Off comes the fine Italian mask, down falls the cloak, and there he is. Beautiful, smiling, sweet. He will take me in his arms, kiss me, and whisper in my ear. One feels one might die of pleasure._

...

_He is… wonderful. That is the word. He is quite simply wonderful. So sweet, so beautiful, so loyal. He is the only one I feel safe with. Safe enough to let fall my shield of night, enough to become who I was, who I should have been, instead of what I am. He alone knows my face, my voice. That is as it should be. He only should know my mysteries._

_To me, he is unique. A man, but… beautiful. Beautiful as most think only a woman can be. I know better. His hair, soft and curled, his lips, curved and sensuous, what woman has these? He is beyond perfect._

_With me, I know he is faithful, Fickle in all else, I know him to be true. Our love is pure. Always. He will always be mine, and I will always be his. Just as I have shared myself, my soul with him, he has shared himself with. I am the only one who knows why he is Montparnasse, and what he was before that._

_And every night, my heart aches, and I am tempted to go to his lair, and lie with him until dawn. And often I do. But I cannot always. I am of the night, and I must be with it. Montparnasse is my light, and there cannot be darkness in the light. Those beautiful eyes would tear me from myself, and I would abandon my cloak of shadow, just to be with him. And so I stay away much of the time._

_My beautiful boy. So young, so tender, but at the same time, ruthless, aggressive. Petulant and fierce. Tonight I will find him. I cannot stay away. How wonderful it will be. I will ascend the dingy window of his room, silently slide open the casement, and slip in. Ever so quietly I will slink into the candlelight, abandoning for a time my mother the Night. He will sit in his chair, reading, or at his table, fixing that lovely hair. Unseen by him, I will bend over him, and whisper in his ears. I will take him into my arms, hold him close, and we will make love. And, as the first fingers of the dawn shine into his room, we will share one kiss, and I will leave as I came, unobserved, unmarked, but weighed down with sorrow._

...

_Oh, and when there's a caper, as there often is, what excitement. As we prowl the street, his hand will find mine, or stroke my hair. As Babet outlines our plan, his hand slips beneath my trousers, and I blush and smile in the darkness. Whenever we walk, we stay together, and he speaks in those delicious whispers that make me shiver with excitement._

_Once, a heist went wrong. An unexpected watchdog roused the alarm, and the cops were after us in a trice. It was everyman for himself. We ran, and, to my horror, found ourselves heading towards a dead end. Claquesous grabbed me, and pushed me towards a nook that seemed barely large enough to hide a child He covered me with that miraculous cloak, and kissed me, as he pressed our bodies close to each other._

_Babet and Gueuelemer were picked up at the end of the alleyway. We managed to distract the cops long enough with a chase for them to escape. We all met up in a tavern later, and how we laughed over the cops' stupidity. Even as we did so, I smiled at Claquesous, sharing our secret. We will always share our secret._


End file.
